


Thorsgiving

by Pardon_the_egg_salad, sariane



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Co-Written, Crack, Domestic Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Holidays, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pardon_the_egg_salad/pseuds/Pardon_the_egg_salad, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sariane/pseuds/sariane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane invites Thor and his parents, Frigga and Odin, to the Thanksgiving dinner she's holding for her friends.</p><p>(Yeah, Darcy didn't think it was a good idea, either.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thorsgiving

**Author's Note:**

> Pardon_the_egg_salad/Allison: I regret nothing. It’s amazing we even finished it, after our tangent into what Candyland character each of the guests would be (Loki’s Queen Frostine). Also, bird puns. We’re not sorry. And yes, sometimes people do read author’s notes.
> 
> sariane/Sarah: I regret everything. Does Allison know that people don’t actually read author’s notes? No? Bless.  
> I hope everyone enjoys the fic! :)
> 
> Please note that this story takes place after The Avengers but completely disregards Thor 2, so it’s spoiler free.
> 
> Warnings:  
> \- swearing  
> \- puns
> 
> Enjoy, and a Happy Thanksgiving to you all! (Belatedly. Because we’re busy people, okay. We had Things to do. Shhh.)

Darcy woke up from a deep sleep to the urgent ringing of her cell phone.

“I need your help,” Jane said. Her voice sounded desperate over the phone. Darcy thought she heard alarms ringing in the background.

“You always do,” Darcy sighed, suppressing a yawn. “Have you called in the reinforcements?”

“Coulson’s on his way,” Jane said, then yelped. Darcy thought she heard something crash in the background.

“He won’t make it in time to save it,” Darcy warned as she pulled on a pair of jeans. She dived for her coat and keys and shoved her iPod into her purse.

“It’s too late, Darcy,” Jane cried hopelessly.

“It’s never too late,” Darcy said firmly before she hung up and slammed the door to her apartment shut behind her.

*

“I think it’s too late to save it,” Darcy said once the smoke and foam from the fire extinguisher had cleared the kitchen. “This is exactly what happened in _The Santa Clause_. Any minute now, we’re going to hear something on our roof and find Captain America up there with a sack of toys, come to deliver presents to all the good little children.”

“I don’t think that’s in the job description,” Jane said absently as she poked at her ruined turkey with a fork. Darcy wondered if the thing might come alive and poke her _back_.

Jane hummed at the turkey like it might and brushed her hair behind her ear, glaring at the bird like a particularly tricky science experiment. She looked like a mad, Thanksgiving-themed scientist. The fact that she was wearing a lab coat in lieu of an apron probably helped that image.

“Okay, Stark’s the rich one, he gives out presents,” Darcy conceded, flapping a hand around dismissively. “I’ll start shouting at him, he’ll fall off the roof, I’ll put on the suit, and there you go. I am Iron Man. Me, Darcy Lewis. Iron Man.”

“Let’s hope that never happens,” a dry voice said from the other side of the kitchen. Darcy and Jane whipped around to see Phil Coulson standing in the doorway. He was wearing _casual clothes_ , Darcy noted, a sweater and jeans. It was weird.

“Wow, you look like a normal human being,” Darcy said out loud. “I thought you were a robot.”

“He isn’t,” Clint Barton said, poking his head into the room next to Coulson. “I’ve checked.”

“I didn’t know Jane invited you,” Darcy said, glancing at Jane.

“We’re kind of a package deal,” Clint smirked.

“He followed me home,” Coulson said conspiratorially.

“You invited me in!” Clint protested.

“Hasn’t left me alone since.”

“You like it,” Clint smirked, pulling Coulson into a hug from behind. Darcy wasn’t sure if that was hot or way too much information.

“Did you bring it?” Jane said, ignoring their PDA like she was used to it. Which, being the Queen of PDA when it came to Thor, Darcy figured she probably was.

“Clint,” Coulson said. Clint disappeared into the living room and brought back a huge turkey moments later. He lifted it with ease, the muscles in his arms flexing as he set it on the kitchen counter.

“Where the hell did you find a turkey this late in the game?” Darcy asked, eyes going wide.

“SHIELD has contingency plans,” Coulson said simply.

"Don't tell Maria," Clint whispered conspiratorially to Darcy.  

"Hill?" She asked, her eyes wide. "No, you didn't just steal Maria Hill's turkey..."

"Steal is such a strong word," Clint hedged with a grin. "I like to think I saved it.”

Coulson appeared out of nowhere with a red oven mitt on one hand, focused on Clint.  He raised his eyebrows at their slightly guilty expressions.

"I'm not going to ask what you're whispering about. I don't want to know." He looked pointedly at Clint. "You're stuffing the turkey. Come on," he said, dragging Clint off without even needing to touch him. Clint just responded to the stern tone by trotting along behind him like a puppy.

"You're in charge of the mashed potatoes," Coulson commanded Darcy. "Make sure Jane doesn't poison the pumpkin pie."

Darcy grinned back at Coulson, and gave him a jaunty salute. "Yes, sir!" 

Coulson shot her a look that would have been called a smirk in a regular man, before turning back to Clint and the turkey. Darcy started to hum to herself, pulling her iPod out of her pocket and plugging it into Jane's kitchen speakers. She set the iPod to shuffle, and grinned when the song "Cups" started playing loudly in the kitchen. Jane gave her an absentminded high-five as she read through the pumpkin pie recipe for what looked like the tenth time.

"Relax, Jane. They’re just Norse gods. And probably your future in-laws. No pressure. It’s not like they actually _celebrate_ Thanksgiving. So, like, they have no expectations, right?”

Jane sighed and fiddled with the white lab coat she was wearing in place of an apron. “I guess so. It’s just… I really want this to be a successful Thanksgiving.”

“And wow them with your awesome turkey cooking skills? Because I think that’s kind of a lost cause right now,” Darcy said pointedly. When Jane’s face fell, Darcy hurried to console her. “But, hey! You still can make a kickass pumpkin pie, right? Just think of it as working on a chemistry experiment -- you just have to follow the directions and put the ingredients in at the right time. Easy-peasy.”

Jane was about to reply when the door behind Darcy burst open with a gust of wind, framing the figure of a man with slightly receding graying hair and a black coat and scarf. He hefted a bag down onto the floor and began to take off his coat.

“Good morning!” he said cheerfully. “I brought that equipment you wanted, Jane,” he called.

“Awesome! Just leave it there, I’ll unpack it later,” Jane called, not to be distracted from her baking.

“Hey, it’s Erik!” Clint shouted, happy to be distracted from the whole turkey-stuffing debacle. 

“Clint,” Coulson said, frowning at Clint as his willing slave abandoned his work to walk over and give Erik Selvig a fist bump.

As Clint held out his fist, Erik glanced at it nervously for a moment, as though he was afraid Clint had something up his sleeve (well, if he was wearing sleeves). Their awkward exchange was interrupted by a loud shriek from across the kitchen.

“Erik!” Darcy shouted, leaving Jane alone to hug Erik. Clint glared at her. “What, was I interrupting former Loki-slave bonding time?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Darcy!” Jane yelled from across the room, looking up from the pumpkin pie recipe. She’d already managed to get what looked like sticky egg yolks in her hair. _How did she do that?_ , Darcy thought to herself, shaking her head.

“What?” Darcy shrugged. “Just pointing out the elephant in the room. Or the impala in the room.”

Even Coulson turned to stare at Darcy. She crossed her arms. “Raise your hand if you have ever felt personally victimized by Loki,” she said.

“I have,” Bruce Banner said, stepping inside the door next to Erik and closing it behind him. He stomped the snow off his boots and smiled up at the kitchen full of people. “What?” he said, “bad joke?” Darcy hi-fived him.

“See, this is why Bruce is my favorite Avenger,” she said smugly, to Clint’s chagrin.

“It’s okay,” Coulson said, patting Clint on the back comfortingly. “You’re my second favorite Avenger.”

Clint pouted. “I bet Grant’s free right now. Maybe he would, you know, hang out and have a beer or something. I bet I’m _his_ favorite Avenger,” he mumbled, annoyed.

“Not a chance. He’s admired Natasha ever since she saved his life in Minsk,” Coulson said, smirking slightly.

“But I had his back in Singapore! I saved his ass,” Clint protested.

“Yes, but she looks better in spandex. Also, May is taking the rest of the team to Bogotá to get their minds off the holidays,” Coulson said.

“They aren’t holding their own Thanksgiving?” Jane asked, turning around with bowl in hand to look at Coulson. “I thought FitzSimmons were excited for their first American Thanksgiving.”

“With a team full of daddy issues, I’m not sure that’s the best thing right now,” Coulson admitted. “Family things can get...a little rough.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Bruce said softly. Darcy wondered if she was allowed to laugh at that one.

The clock above the kitchen sink struck noon, and recordings of twirping birds played.

“Really?” Darcy said, looking up at the clock. “You have one of those bird clock things? Really?”

“It was a gift,” Jane said, turning back to furiously stir at her pumpkin pie mix. “Come on,” she said over her shoulder. “We only have a few hours until Thor gets here! Chop, chop, people!”

Coulson turned to Darcy.

“You were making the mashed potatoes?” he said, quirking an eyebrow. Darcy saluted again and smirked before heading over to the counter to grab the supplies.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Coulson looked between Bruce and Erik, scrutinizing them closely.

“Do either of you have cooking skills?” he asked. Darcy bet he’d checked their files on the way over for anything about their kitchen experience.

“I brought the cranberry sauce,” Bruce said, holding up a can of store-bought cranberry sauce as a peace offering. Darcy was glad not to be on the receiving end of the glare Coulson sent his way. He was a brave man to stare down the Hulk.

“I brought a green bean casserole,” Erik said, kneeling down and reaching into his bag. He pulled out something that looked like a walkie-talkie, a strange instrument that may have been a toaster in another life, and a screwdriver before pulling out the casserole.

Coulson took it out of his hands and sniffed it carefully, as though it might explode in his hands.

“Family recipe,” Erik said. Coulson nodded and set it carefully on the counter next to Bruce’s wimpy can of cranberry sauce. He glanced at his watch.

“We have T minus four hours until Thor and his family show up,” Coulson said. He looked around the room and made eye contact with each member of his Turkey Team.

Yep, that was what Darcy was calling it. The Turkey Team.

“And, how are we supposed to cook a 20 pound turkey in that time?” Darcy asked, pursing her lips.

“We’ll find a way,” Coulson said, crossing his arms and staring her down. “Let’s all get to work.”

*

Darcy pulled the spoon out of the mashed potatoes and licked it, staring absently at the tiny television screen Jane had set up in her kitchen. They were watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, which Jane had DVR’d and Darcy had missed earlier when she’d _tried_ to sleep in (emphasis on tried).

“Here we have the Hulk!” one of the annoying reporters said onscreen. “It’s one of the largest balloons of the parade.”

“And it seems appropriate, too,” the other reporter said, “as the Hulk is the biggest and mightiest of the Avengers, New York City’s own protectors!”

“Bruce, you’re on TV!” Darcy yelled into the living room. Bruce popped his head in a moment later.

“What?” he said. “Captain America?”

Darcy turned back to the screen to see Cap and Iron Man balloons float down the road as the popular singer of the moment sang about Christmas. Thor was the last balloon, bouncing along like his namesake.

“Wait, they have Avengers balloons? Phil didn’t say anything,” Clint said, appearing beside Bruce with crossed arms. “Where’s Hawkeye?”

“If it makes you feel better, they left out Natasha, too,” Darcy said, turning to Clint with a smirk.

“Phil!” Clint said, turning back into the living room. “What the hell? You gave them licensing rights to the Avengers but they left out _me?_ I feel betrayed. Hurt.”

Clint and Coulson’s banter faded away into the living room. Darcy sent Bruce a look. He raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed.

“What do you --?” Bruce started, but was interrupted by a loud knocking. Darcy and Bruce eyed each other and then looked at the door.

“Can somebody get the door?” Jane yelled frantically over her shoulder as she switched the jellied cranberry sauce and gravy boat for the umpteenth time. Nervously, she smoothed down the front of her white lab coat, before she realized she was still wearing it. “Distract them while I change,” she hissed at Darcy as she quickly ran upstairs, stripping off her lab coat as she disappeared around the corner.

Darcy and Bruce exchanged another look as they debated who should open the door for the Norse gods Jane invited for Thanksgiving. Bruce looked as though he’d rather face a hundred Hydra agents _without_ turning into the Hulk than to answer the door.

Erik appeared from behind them and strode past Bruce to open the door. He grinned widely when he saw Thor framed in the narrow door, snow swirling around him. Behind him stood Odin, his eye narrowed as he took in the ordinary suburban neighborhood, and the poised but smiling Frigga.

“Thor!” Erik called out as Thor wrapped him in a tight embrace that lifted him off his feet. It looked as if Thor was squeezing the life out of the old astrophysicist, but the smile on Erik’s face seemed to say otherwise.

“Where is the magnificent turkey beast of which you boasted?” Thor asked grandly, sweeping his arms out and almost knocking over the vase of flowers sitting on the table by the door. Bruce reached out like a ninja to straighten it before the vase could topple off the stand. Darcy could hear him start his yoga breathing when he moved back to stand next to her, as if trying to shelter her from Odin’s disapproving gaze. 

In and out, went his controlled breathes next to her. Well, Darcy was never good with calm anyway. 

“Hey, Captain Hammer! Brought along the ‘rents, huh?” She said waving at Odin and Frigga behind him. “Your dad looks like Santa. Did he lose a fight with a pencil? That’s what happened to Fury. They could start a club.” Odin shot Darcy a glare that would melt a regular human being. But it was a generally accepted notion in SHIELD that Darcy was not human, especially after the incident with Captain America and a pair of bright red, lacy ladies’ underwear.

Bruce interrupted Darcy before she could get herself into more hot water. He cleared his throat pointedly and said, “I hope your trip to Earth was comfortable.”

“Yes, our journey through the Bifrost was pleasant. Midgard is most… cold this time of year.” Frigga said politely.

“Why don’t you come inside?” asked Coulson from the doorway in his usual cool manner. _He looks unflappable even in jeans_ , Darcy thought. _How does he do that?_

Thor ushered his mother in first, then followed Frigga and Odin into Jane’s suddenly tiny kitchen.

“May I take your, um, cloaks?” Darcy said, holding out a hand for Thor’s cape. Frigga slid her furs off her shoulders, and Odin passed her his cloak with a scrutinizing gaze. Darcy hung them up on the hooks by the door. “Can I hang up Mew-Mew?” she joked to Thor, who smiled.

“If you be worthy,” he teased. “You may try.” Thor hung up his hammer anyways.

“Well, Miss Foster, I must say,” Odin said, turning around, “it is a pleasure to be welcomed to your place of residence.”

“Um,” Darcy said, “I’m not Jane...I’m Darcy. Darcy Lewis. I’m her intern.” She looked between Frigga and Odin. “It’s kind of like...an indentured servant. Except not like that, at all.”

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Odin said with a sigh. “Where is the Lady Jane?”

Darcy tried not to look offended. “Um, I think she’s changing. She’ll be down in a few --”

“I’m here!” Jane said, interrupting Darcy. She had taken off her lab coat and was wearing a dress of all things. She looked nervous. Darcy figured she was really trying to make the best impression for Thor’s parents. Gods help her.

“Jane!” Thor exclaimed. His face brightened as he saw his girlfriend. Jane hugged him and he leaned down to kiss her. Darcy sniggered.

Frigga seemed pleased as Jane introduced herself and unflinchingly looked Odin in the eye. Although, Darcy supposed, after the Black Widow, Odin was only the second scariest person they had ever met.

“And let me introduce my friend, Darcy Lewis,” Jane said, sending Darcy a look that screamed ‘ _behave_.’

“You have good genes,” Darcy said to them, nodding towards Thor.

“And these are my guests --” Jane started, but Coulson stepped forward to shake Odin’s hand and kiss Frigga’s. They looked surprised at the gesture and slightly threatened. Darcy figured handshakes weren’t common on Asgard and barely bit back a smile.

“Phil Coulson,” he introduced himself. “I work for SHIELD. And this is Clint Barton, my husband,” he said, nudging Clint forward to shake their hands.

“Otherwise known as Hawkeye,” Clint said, forcing a smile. He looked skittish, and Darcy figured it was excusable, considering his past troubles with Asgardians.

“Hawkeye is a great warrior,” Thor said. “As is Bruce, who turns into the mighty Hulk of which I have told you.”

“Hi,” Bruce said. “Bruce Banner.”

“And, of course, this is Erik Selvig,” Jane said.

“Nice to meet you,” Erik said awkwardly. He didn’t step forward to shake their hands, but Frigga and Odin actually looked relieved.

“We almost have everything set on the table, let’s go into the dining room for dinner,” Coulson said, sensing the possible awkwardness of the situation.

Darcy hung back with Jane while Coulson led Odin and Frigga into the other room, Clint standing protectively by his side. Bruce and Erik followed them.

“Is it just me, or did you invite everyone with Asgardian issues to your little Thanksgiving dinner?” Darcy hissed. Jane elbowed her in the stomach.

“I invited my friends,” Jane muttered back. “Come on, be nice, we’ve just got to...break the ice.”

“Is ice-breaking a Thanksgiving custom of which I am not aware?” Thor said, crouching down to join the two of them in their whispers.

“Shut up, you,” Jane said, elbowing Thor lightly in the ribs. He chuckled, and then they were back in PDA-mode again. Darcy groaned.

“Come on,” she said, tugging Jane towards the dining room. “We still need to bring in the turkey."

When she dragged Jane into the other room, she found that they had seated Odin at the head of the table, with Erik at his left and Frigga at his right. Thor took a seat next to his mother, and Jane sat next to him, with Bruce on her right.

Darcy sat on the other side of the table next to Erik. She nudged Thor under the table with her foot and smiled.

"This feast looks most delicious!" Thor said proudly, grinning at Jane. She blushed a little.

“Jane made the whole thing.” Darcy said loudly, forcing Jane to send her a confused but thankful look in reply. "She’s been preparing the feast all day.”

“You seem very skilled in the arts of cookery.” Frigga said generously to Jane. 

“Aye, you’ll make someone a fine wife.” Clint joked in an imitation of Odin’s old-fashioned speech from the other end of the table. An awkward silence filled the Asgardian side of the table.

"She's also a tiger in the bedroom," Darcy said, breaking the silence.

"Really?" Clint said, raising an eyebrow at Darcy. "You know this from experience?"

"And so what if I --" Jane cut Darcy off with a single look. Darcy backtracked. “We were roomies. Thin walls," Darcy bragged to an eager Clint.

“When you say _living together_ , what exactly do you mean? Naked pillow fights? Making out over the coffee maker? Cuddling through chick flicks? Or three ways with penniless grad students? Please tell me it was the grad students…”

"Barton," Coulson said through gritted teeth, "go get the turkey."

Clint rolled his eyes, but he disappeared back into the kitchen without protest.

To Darcy's amusement, Frigga and Odin looked intensely uncomfortable. In the other hand, Thor seemed more than pleased with Darcy's usual mischief. 

"Sorry if that was inappropriate," Darcy said, biting her lip to hold back a smile.

"It is fine, we are used to much worse," Frigga said kindly. Darcy suddenly remembered that 'much worse' was probably Loki. She suddenly wished that Jane had invited Loki as well to fill out the last place in the table of the Most Awkward Thanksgiving Ever. It must get pretty lonely in prison, and Darcy had wanted to try her luck against the God of Mischief. She was pretty sure she’d win.

"I hope I didn't ruffle any feathers," Clint said as he came into the room, carrying the twenty pound turkey.

"That was terrible," Bruce said, laughing in spite of himself. He shook his head. "Just terrible."

Coulson took up the knife and fork to carve the turkey and said, "I know. Clint can be sure a bird brain sometimes."

Half the table groaned, but Darcy burst into laughter as Clint hi-fived Coulson.

"You know what they say," Clint smirked, "birds of a feather flock together."

"I'm so hungry I could gobble this turkey up," Coulson said, smiling.

"What is this turkey beast you speak of?" asked Odin, interrupting their jokes.

“It’s kind of… a large bird with a red dangly thing hanging from its bill," Bruce tried, gesturing with his hands as he attempted to explain what a turkey looked like.

"It's called a wattle," Coulson said as he carved off a few pieces of turkey and began to pass around plates with helping. 

"They are mighty beasts!" Thor explained to his parents. "I have been assured that they are greatly prized game, and that the people of Midgard fight in the streets to find the greatest turkey for their kin! They are so vicious that the President of the United States of America pardons one for its crimes each year in a long honored tradition."

Bruce snorted into his glass of wine. "That's not exactly what happens..." he trailed off as he considered explaining to the Asgardians.

Darcy picked up her napkin, stealing a pen out of Erik’s pocket (he always had one on him, somewhere). Grabbing Clint’s hand, she traced around the shape of it, as he raised one eyebrow at her. When she was done, she patted Clint’s hand companionably and dropped it back on his lap.

Darcy grinned at Clint and finished the drawing by adding eyes and feet to the turkey.  Almost as an afterthought, she drew a pilgrim hat on the bird’s head.

“Here,” she said, holding up the hand-turkey drawing in front of Odin’s one good eye.  He stared at it closely, confused.

“Does any living creature resemble that ill-conceived rendering?” Odin asked, his brow furrowing in a mass of wrinkles.

Darcy pouted. Clint gave her a thumbs up in support. At least _he_ liked her artwork. (Even Steve had complimented the doodle she'd drawn on the whiteboard in Avengers Tower. She called it 'Princess Iron Man." It was a work of art.)

"Miss Lewis is quite the artist," Coulson said, pulling his phone out of his pocket, "but this is a photograph of a turkey." He pulled up a picture on his phone on Google and had Clint pass it down the table to Odin and Frigga.

Odin stared at the phone in his hand before passing it gingerly to Frigga.

"How large is this beast?" Odin asked. "Isn't this rather a small specimen?" he said, gesturing towards the twenty pound turkey.

"Oh, it's --" Clint started, an evil spark in his eye, but he yelped instead and went quiet.

"This is a larger one," Coulson said, ignoring Clint's glare. "But they are particularly nasty birds. Natural born killers." Darcy admired how he could say that so matter-of-fact. _Pfft, secret agents_ , she thought.

By now, Coulson had finished carving the turkey and passing out helpings. They began to pass the different dishes around the table. Darcy watched as the Asgardians examined each dish carefully.

"And how do you hunt these turkey beasts you speak of?” Odin asked through a mouthful of turkey. He sprayed meat chunks across the table, and Darcy was thankful he was sitting at the head of the table -- not across from her. From the corner of her eye, Darcy saw Bruce wince as a chunk of turkey landed in his water.

“I use a compound bow,” Clint said proudly. “I prefer to shoot them from fifty yards away. It’s the only way there’s any sport to it. I don’t even use a blind,” Clint smirked. “Just climb a tree and try to blend in myself.”

Odin looked at him with mild interest, as if his annoyance of the day had just upgraded from ‘Jõtunn scum’ to ‘minor pain in the ass Midgardian’. “You engage in the manly pursuit of the hunt?”

“Yeah.” Hawkeye said as if it should be obvious. “I’m Midgard’s greatest bowman. My skills are known across Earth as being the manliest, sexiest, archer that ever was… ever.” He finished proudly. “Right, Phil?”

Coulson gave a snort of acknowledgement that may or may not have been in agreement.

“Hmm.” Odin said to himself. “Have you ever slain a boar in the hunt? It is a truly mighty beast that would be worthy of the skills you claim to possess.”

“Oh yeah, we eat boar. I’m a good, strong, provider for my man, here.” Clint said, throwing one arm around Coulson amiably and giving him a smacking kiss. “I shot one the other day when we were on a mission in Spain. We had leftovers for weeks. Trust me, boar sandwiches get old pretty quickly.”

“I never thought I’d miss pizza and takeout,” Coulson sighed.

“Aye! I have grown quite fond of the victuals which we order for dinner at the Avengers Tower!” Thor said. He turned to his mother. “Midgardians have the most interesting foods. There is spaghetti and noodles, as well as pizza, and the steadfast taco!” Thor grinned and took a large spoonful of the canned cranberry sauce without even a wince. Darcy figured he was starving.

“You all seem to enjoy this food very much,” Frigga said, glancing around the table. “But I do notice that you have not received any turkey, Bruce Banner,” she continued, turning on Bruce, who looked down at his plate self-consciously. “It is truly delicious, as is the green bean casserole. Care to try some?”

“I’m actually a vegetarian,” Bruce said almost apologetically. “Jane offered to make me something special when I told her,” he said, nodding in her direction, “but I didn’t want to bother her. I had a snack before I came.”

“What is a vegetarian?” Odin asked.

“I don’t eat meat,” Bruce explained.

Darcy looked at his plate. It was piled high with a mountain of mashed potatoes that Bruce had already halfway demolished, a couple rolls, and some of his own jellied cranberry sauce.

Darcy’s heart leapt in compassion. Instantly, she called out as she picked up her plate and leaned across the table to offer it to Bruce.

“You can have my mashed potatoes, Bruce! I haven’t really touched them, and they don’t have gravy or anything.” She babbled, sorry that she was hogging all of the meat-free food. After all, _turkey_. She could eat that. And Bruce might need those potatoes with his hulking appetite.  _Hulking_ , she thought, laughing to herself. _Totally should’ve said that one out loud._

Bruce took the plate with a shy smile, and scooped her mashed potatoes onto his own plate.  “Thanks, Darcy.” he said sweetly.  Darcy’s heart melted like butter on one of Coulson's hot yeast rolls. Damn, that smile was cute.

Darcy was jolted out of a particularly vivid fantasy involving Bruce and melted chocolate by Odin calling across the table, “Why do you refrain from meat? Do you have some affliction?”

“No,” Bruce said, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t agree with how they treat animals,” he explained. “It makes me… well, angry,” he said, trying a smile.

“How they treat animals?” Frigga asked, looking concerned. “Do they not hunt them in honorable ways?”

“Does anyone want another helping of my green bean casserole?” Erik interrupted, startling Darcy. He’d been so silent for the entire meal, she had almost forgotten he was there at all.

“I’ll have some,” Coulson said, taking the casserole dish from Erik. “Where did you find the recipe?”

“Yes, Erik, tell us about the recipe,” Clint snorted, “because Phil is going to start cooking now.”

Coulson turned to Clint with a frown. “I cook!” he said. “I made you spaghetti the other night.”

“Yeah, and you burned the pasta. You burned _pasta,_ ” Clint laughed.

“You were distracting me,” Coulson protested. Clint smirked, smug.

“Is the recipe for your roast turkey a secret passed down by your ancestors?” Frigga asked Jane, turning away from Clint and Coulson’s banter. Darcy finished up her mashed potatoes and eavesdropped on their conversation. It was more interesting than Erik and Odin’s argument about green beans.

“Uh, not really?” Jane said unsurely, looking at the turkey. “My family wasn’t really one for… well, Thanksgiving.” She tried to smile, but it was forced.

“Is Erik not one of your kin?” Frigga asked, glancing at Erik, who seemed to be arguing about the science of the Bifrost now. “He seems most kind. Is this not a gathering for family?”

“Oh, god, no,” Jane laughed. “He was one of my dad’s friends. But my family isn’t really around anymore,” she shrugged. “But I’ve made my own here. My friends are like my family,” Jane finished.

Darcy thought she was going to puke from the cuteness, so she spoke up to end it for the sake of her own sanity. “We need pie, stat,” she said in her best imitation of Captain America, “Wait, they say ‘stat’ when they want something done quickly, right? Whatever.”

When no one moved to get the pie, Coulson stood up.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said. Darcy smiled in triumph. The Captain America voice must have worked. As Coulson headed into the kitchen, Clint watched him as though he wanted to follow.

“Go on, then,” Darcy said to Clint, nudging him lightly. She hated when his face got all sad, like he was a puppy whose owner just left him on the curb. “Go after him already. Just don’t forget the whipped cream for the pie -- oh, come on, why is your head in the gutter already?” She asked Clint, smacking him on the back of the head.

“Because it’s always there,” Clint said, giving Darcy a small peck on the top of her head as he got up from the table. He headed to the kitchen, swaying his hips a bit as he walked in an exaggerated motion. 

“You have pies in Asgard, right?” Darcy asked Thor loudly when the room fell silent again.  Everyone had emptied their plates several times already. She could see Erik next to her, leaning back and unbuttoning the top latch to his pants, to make way for the expansion of his stomach straining at the seams. However, in Darcy’s opinion, there always was room for pie.  _Always_.

“Of course,” said Odin, affronted. “The Asgardians are a civilized race. We are far more advanced, beyond you in many forms of technology.”

Thor interrupted Odin, saying, “Father, enough please! We are their guests.” 

Odin quieted, just as Darcy sent Thor a grateful smile. He returned the grin, showing off supernaturally white teeth.

Everyone waited quietly for a couple minutes for the pies to come out. Bruce and Jane had a short discussion on nuclear fission that fizzled out too quickly, but that was the only effort anyone made to make conversation. She suddenly wished Jane had let her invite Tony Stark to keep the party going. It was totally a good idea, Jane was crazy not to take her up on it.

Darcy could tell that all the guests were contentedly full after their meal, like cats about to nap. Speaking of which, Darcy was about ready for a nap, herself. She bet Bruce would let her fall asleep on his shoulder in the living room while they watched football and ate pie...

“Uh, why don’t I just check on the whole pie-thing?” Darcy said, excusing herself from the friendly quiet. She didn’t really do quiet, especially not when she was waiting for pie. “Hey guys, what’s taking you so --” Darcy started to say as she walked into the kitchen.

Darcy stopped in the threshold of the door when she saw Clint crowding Coulson up against a counter. The pies were left abandoned and half-uncovered while Clint whispered into Coulson’s ear, pressing up against him and smirking as he told Coulson something Darcy couldn’t quite make out -- _oh_ , but she could imagine.

“Aw, come on, Phil,” Clint purred more loudly.

“The king and queen of Asgard are in the other room,” Coulson hissed back.

“That’s never stopped you before,” Clint chuckled darkly, and he pulled Coulson into a quick kiss.

“Ahem,” Darcy cleared her throat and stepped fully into the room, setting her hands on her hips. “I thought you were getting the pies?”

Coulson and Clint jumped apart, instinctively straightening their clothes. Coulson looked awkwardly at his feet, failing to hide a smile.

“We were,” Clint protested, doing a worse job at pretending not to laugh than his husband.

“And was that _all_ you were getting, Clint?” Darcy teased, picking up the pumpkin pie and grinning.

“It’s more than _you’re_ getting,” Clint shot back with a smirk.

“Hey!” Darcy said as she tried -- and failed -- to pout. “I have sex! Often. I totally get laid on, like, a regular basis, I get laid so much --”

Bruce chose that exact moment to walk into the kitchen.

“Was someone going to get pie?” he asked awkwardly. Clint burst into wild laughter.

“Hey, Bruce, are you busy tonight --?” Clint started to ask, before Coulson elbowed him, hard, in the ribs. Bruce gave Darcy an embarrassed look, his cheeks flushing a deep red. _Why was that so hot?_

“Let’s bring in the pies,” Coulson said, taking a mincemeat pie in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other. Clint sighed, but he grabbed the other pies and followed Coulson back into the dining room.

“What was that about?” Bruce asked Darcy.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged innocently, “maybe they were asking you for a threesome?”

She left Bruce alone in the kitchen with his usual endearingly confused look spread across his face, and sauntered off after Clint and Coulson.

She swore she hadn’t been gone long, but by the time Darcy made it back into the dining room, everything had dissolved into chaos.

“I will not stand for this, father,” Thor said, slamming his hand down on the kitchen table where he was now standing. The dishes and glasses rattled.

“And neither shall I apologize for some imagined slight,” Odin snapped back.

Frigga, Erik, and Jane were sitting, looking intensely uncomfortable, but this changed when Coulson spoke up and they shook out of their stupor to edge away from the table.

“Excuse me,” Coulson said, his voice on edge as he surveyed the threat. Darcy eyed Clint, who had set down the pies and seemed to be itching to pull out his hidden weapons. “What seems to be the problem?” Coulson asked with forced calmness.

Darcy stood in the doorway, glad that she’d left Bruce in the kitchen, away from the tense environment. She hoped that Coulson could get a handle on the situation.

“My husband and son are acting akin to children, for which I apologize,” Frigga said, pushing her chair aside gracefully. She stared Odin down with a ferocity that Darcy figured came with being queen.

“It is Thor who plays the child, fraternizing with mortals as though he is one of them,” Odin sneered.

“I do consider myself one of them,” Thor said proudly. “Why should I not?”

“Our kind is not equal with theirs. I should not have encouraged this; it was folly. However, I shall amend for that now. We are leaving, Thor,” Odin said, “despite the delusions you hold towards this human.” He gestured towards Jane.

Darcy raised her eyebrows in surprise as Jane crossed her arms and pulled herself up to her full height, facing Odin.

“I’m standing right here,” Jane said firmly. “I’m not an idiot. I know what you’re saying.”

“As I am no child,” Thor started.

“I don’t need you to speak for me, Thor,” Jane said, setting a hand on Thor’s arm. She turned back to Odin. “I don’t need anyone to speak for me, and I don’t think Thor needs that, either. I know who you are. I know what power you have, and I understand what that means.” Fiercely, Jane tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Her chin stuck out in defiance.

“Do you?” Odin said, amused.

“I do,” Jane said. “And it doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. I invited you here, to my table, to eat my food. You checked your weapons at the door, you ate my turkey, you bowed to my tradition. As far as I understand, that makes you _my_ guest. It’s not an ‘imagined slight,’ it’s a real insult. If you don’t want any part of that, you can leave, before I ask you to.”

Darcy watched with pride as Jane stood defiantly, staring down the All-Father of the Nine Realms for daring to insult her at her own table. She couldn’t help giving one fist pump.

“You would brave such a thing?” Odin asked, motionless.

“The people sitting at this table have suffered more than enough at the hands of your family members,” Jane said. “So yeah, I would.”

There was silence, and then -- Odin smiled.

“Jane Foster, it seems you have proven me wrong,” he said. “My son has chosen one with bravery and nobility.”

“Father --” Thor started, but Odin held up a hand.

“I give you my blessing,” Odin said, motioning to Jane. Her defiant expression didn’t change.

“Well, thanks,” Jane said, “I may not need your approval, but I appreciate it.”

Odin paused and continued, “I hope that all of Midgard be as fierce of spirit as you.”

“Damn right we are,” Darcy said, breaking the silence. She heard an exhale from behind her and saw Bruce, standing at her back in a defensive position.

It was the moment that broke the tension in the room, everyone breaking into conversation or mutters that all faded together.

“You okay?” Darcy said to Bruce, checking to make sure he hadn’t gone green.

He relaxed and set one hand her shoulder in reassurance. “I’m fine, Darcy. I’m not the one who stood up to the king of Asgard -- you should be worried about Jane, not me.” He pointed to Jane, who was too busy enthusiastically making out with Thor to notice anyone else’s existence.

“I think she’s fine.” Darcy said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not worried about _her_. She has the Norse God of Rippling Pectorals to protect her from ol’ Sauron over there.” Bruce smiled at the image and let out a small laugh. “I’m more worried you’ll --”

“Turn into a giant green rage monster?” Bruce supplied dryly.

“I was going to say become the jolly green giant, but that works, too.” Darcy said, grinning. “Relax, Bruce. It’s Thanksgiving. No aliens are invading Manhattan, SHIELD is on vacation, the Norse Gods are stuffed with turkey, Clint _probably_ left his bow at home, and Tony is on another continent. Chillax. It’s all ‘peace on Earth, goodwill towards men.’”

“Isn’t that Christmas?” Bruce asked, his brow furrowing. The adorableness sent her hormones into a frenzy. _No forehead furrow should cause that much of a reaction._ Darcy officially had it bad for Bruce -- or else she was going crazy from being in a sexual drought for, well, longer than she’d like to admit. She wasn’t sure which one was worse.

Darcy moved in closer, her face moving so close to Bruce’s that he only needed to move a couple inches to press his lips to hers. “Maybe.”

“Darcy, I…” Bruce said, becoming unfocused. His eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips and back again. “Can I, uh,” he swallowed, his throat bobbing.

Just as Darcy was sure he was going to kiss her, they were interrupted by the sounds of “Iron Man” by Black Sabbath coming from Bruce’s pocket. Leaning back, Bruce let out a quiet “sorry” as he checked who was calling him. It was Tony. Obviously.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Stark?”

“Yeah. Steve’s is “Party in the USA,”” Bruce said, frowning at his phone.

“How can he still be messing with me from another continent?” Darcy moaned. “He’s in China, dammit! How does he know right when to interrupt my moment? Dammit, Stark!”

“I’ve got to take this, sorry.” Bruce apologized again, picking up the phone with a, “Hey, Tony, what’s going wrong now? Did you mess up the freeze ray again? I did tell you to calibrate it before you got on the plane…” He said, trailing off into sciency things she didn’t understand.  Or care about, really.

Darcy sighed. Stark was going to pay for ruining her moment with Bruce. She was going to change all his coffee to decaf and watch him squirm. _Karma is a bitch,_ she thought vindictively.

“We should clean up,” Coulson said, beginning to stack up the dirty plates on the table. Clint and Erik joined him.

“I’ll cut the pies,” Jane said, moving towards the pies and clean plates on the other side of the table.

“Oooh! I want extra whipped cream!” Darcy called, leaving Bruce’s side to head towards the pies in excitement. Pumpkin pie was the best part of Thanksgiving, hands down.

As soon as Darcy got the biggest slice of pumpkin pie -- the crust was only slightly charred thanks to her daring pie rescue when Jane forgot to set a timer -- she grabbed the can of aerosol whipped cream. She shook it quickly and popped the cap off, and started spraying a massive glob of whipped cream onto her pie.

“What is this peculiar device you are using?” Thor asked as he watched Darcy finish off the tower of whipped cream on her slice of pie.

“It’s whipped cream,” Darcy said. “It’s kind of like… magic clouds of sugar you can spray onto anything. It’s really good.” When Thor gave her his patent look of befuddlement, Darcy had a brilliant idea. “Okay, Thor, open your mouth.”

He did immediately, and Darcy acted without a second thought. She stood up on one of the kitchen chairs and sprayed the whipped cream directly into his mouth. Everyone waited in anticipation of his reaction.

It didn’t take long. “THIS IS A MARVELLOUS CONFECTION, INDEED,” Thor said, around a generous mouthful of whipped cream. “ANOTHER!”

While Darcy was about to oblige him, the room suddenly shuddered slightly under their feet. A dramatic green flash of light flooded the room, and when it cleared Darcy saw someone new had appeared. Someone Jane had _definitely_ not invited.

In the center of the table, standing tall with his green cloak billowing out in a nonexistent breeze, was Loki, the God of Mischief. And he looked more than a little pleased with himself.

”You didn’t think I’d pass up this little family gathering,” Loki said, grinning as he slid from the table, “did you?” His smile was sharp and taunting. Darcy’s hand clenched into a fist.

“What do you want, Loki?” Clint sneered. He’d stepped protectively in front of Coulson, already holding a knife in his hand and not bothering to hide the weapon.

Loki turned to face him and laugh. Clint didn’t flinch.

“Only to join in on the festivities,” Loki said, looking to Jane. “I didn’t receive an invitation,” he said, “but I’ll forgive you, just this once. It must have gotten lost in the mail.”

“Brother,” Thor said, stepping towards Loki, who held up a hand.

“No,” Loki snapped. “Wasn’t this what you wanted, Thor?” he growled, strutting across the room to face Thor. “Isn’t this what you’ve always dreamed of? The family’s all here.” Loki threw out his arms and threw one around Thor, and the other around Jane. “It’s touching, I know.”

“Open wide for the camera,” Darcy said suddenly, sprinting up behind Loki to spray whipped cream from the can all over his head and face. Thor and Jane jumped back, but Darcy held up her hand.

Loki turned slowly to face Darcy. She held her ground, ignoring Coulson’s warning tone, and shook the can of whipped cream in her hand.

“How dare --!” Loki started, but he stopped short as Darcy sprayed more whipped cream into his open mouth.

“Smile,” she deadpanned, and pulled out her phone to snap a picture.

In the aftermath of the camera flash, Loki wiped the whipped cream out of his eyes and narrowed them.

“You will pay for this, mortal,” Loki promised, “you will pay dearly, indeed.”

And, with a green flash, he disappeared.

Ignoring the stunned stares around her, Darcy blew off the nozzle of the whipped cream can like a smoking gun, smiled, and said triumphantly, “Yippie ki yay, motherfucker.”

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> Psst, don't tell her I told you, but this is Allison's first fanfic! Please leave a comment and let us know what you think. :)


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